


It’s OK, But Just This Once!

by bohemeyourself



Series: Shamlessly Self-indulgent fics about Ian [3]
Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Dirty Talk, Kink, M/M, Overstimulation, Scratching, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-06
Updated: 2011-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-25 18:38:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bohemeyourself/pseuds/bohemeyourself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon talks about sex all the time, Ian is bad at being the dominant one, and Spencer hits the hardest. Everything works out, in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s OK, But Just This Once!

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, twitter and 15dozentimes are to blame for this. The sequel is on it's way, I swear, but I am like, the world's slowest writer right now.

Invariably, sex always comes up in conversation. Which is cool, but doesn’t really help any, since it’s usually while they’re all smoking up on the bus, and Ian can’t really do anything about it, has to wait until everyone’s asleep in their respective bunks to reach a hand into his pajama pants, stuffing the edge of his pillow into his mouth to keep from making noise.

“When you’re bottoming,” Brendon says around a mouthful of smoke. His voice is artificially deepened. Ian tries not to think about how hot it is. “And you come, but he just keeps fucking you, and it’s all too much, but like, perfect at the same time?”

Spencer and Dallon are in the front of the bus, on a conference call, but Ian still looks around anyway. “Yeah, or like, when they’re rough, like scratching you and shit, and it’s good, and it doesn’t hurt,”

“Dude, do you sub?”

“Sometimes,” Ian says, hiding his blush by taking another hit. “But like, never with strangers. It’s hard to go under with someone new.”

“Yeah,”

“It’s hard, on tour, like this.”

“What, finding kinky sex on tour?”

“Yeah,” Ian agrees. If he were sober, he would be embarrassed. If they were sober, they’d never be having this conversation. “And like, sometimes that’s what I want, what I need, after a show.”

Brendon snickers. But Ian’s seen him after enough shows, in the dressing room with his dick pressed tight against the zipper of his slacks, to know that he’s not the only one.

“And it’s partially your fault, you dick. Prancing around half-naked, and the touching, and the” Ian waves his hands, failing to express what it is that Brendon does to get him so hot. “touching!”

Brendon opens his mouth, but then Spencer chooses that moment to come into the lounge, tucking his phone into his pocket. “You guys started without me? Lame.” He looks between them, probably noticing Ian’s blush and the not-at-all subtle way Brendon is crossing his legs to hide his hard-on. “What were you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Brendon says, at the same time Ian says “Stuff,”

Spencer raises an eyebrow. “Okay,”

+++

Brendon keeps bringing it up, because he’s like, out to get Ian, or something.

“How do you feel about spanking?” He asks. Is he telepathic, or some shit? What the fuck? “Like, getting hit for so long that your ass gets all red and hot and it’s like you can feel, like every little thing?”

“Dude,” Ian says, because he was in the process of slowly melting into the couch before Brendon spoke up. Ian’s dick, however, does not care how stoned he is.

“Yeah, and when he touches you, his skin feels so cool in comparison.” Brendon’s knee-walking across the couch to Ian. “God, I miss sex like that,” The bus hits a pothole, and Brendon steadies himself with a hand on Ian’s thigh.

Ian looks up, from Brendon’s hand to his face. Brendon looks like, fucking intent, or something. “Wha- what do you like, after the spanking?” Ian manages to stammer out. He can’t decide if he wants Brendon to stop or keep going.

“I love being fucked,” Brendon says. His hand inches its way up Ian’s thigh. “The feeling of being spread open, filled up. It’s so fucking good, Ian.”

Brendon’s palm is hot on Ian’s cock, even through his jeans. Brendon curls his fingers around it, squeezes him through his pants. “Bren, I-”

“Shh, I got you.” Brendon growls, and lowers his head. His hand comes up, reaching for the button on Ian’s pants, and then there are footsteps and movement and the lounge door flying open.

“Fuck!” Ian says. Brendon’s on the other side of the couch so fast, it seems as if he were never kneeling right over Ian in the first place. Spencer looks between the two of them, questioning. He looks slightly peeved, like he’s caught on to whatever nasty game Brendon’s trying to play in the back lounge.

Whatever, Spencer’s missing out.

The first hotel night they get, Brendon and Ian share a room. When Ian gets out of the shower, Brendon is sitting on the bed Ian claimed, hands folded in his lap. Next to him, lube and condoms sit on the bedspread, plain as day.

“Brendon?”

“I, uh, can you-” Brendon actually looks nervous. Ian’s never seen that on Brendon. “Can we fuck? Just once, I swear, but like, all that stuff we talk about, it’s so hard to find someone on tour, and like, what you said about strangers, and stuff, and I just,”

Ian reels. Is Brendon actually propositioning him? “You want me to put you under?” Ian asks, because that’s the first thing in relation to that conversation that his brain supplies.

“Well, not really, but like, the roughness, and the overstimulation. Please, Ian”

Ian swallows. Brendon is fucking begging. “Okay, okay.” He says, inching closer to the foot of the bed. When he gets there, he sets his feet outside of Brendon’s socked ones, feeling the nervousness settle into his stomach. “Like, now?”

“Only chance we have for a while.” Brendon says.

Ian lets out a breath. “Alright,” he bends, tilting Brendon’s chin up so he can catch his mouth in a kiss. Brendon groans and reaches for Ian’s pajama pants. Ian slaps his hands away. “No,” he says, straightening back up and talking a step back. “S-strip, on your knees.” Ian points at the floor. He feels slightly ridiculous, but Brendon complies, no argument, so Ian figures he’s doing it right.

He steps out of Brendon’s reach and slowly pushes his own pants down his hips, wrapping a hand around himself and stroking. Brendon licks his lips. “Tell me what you want,” Ian says, and Brendon makes a small sound. He watches Ian’s hand, and Ian steps forward to grab a handful of Brendon’s hair and ask again. Brendon’s eyes slide shut when Ian tugs on his hair, and he takes a minute to breathe before opening them.

“Spank me, please.” Brendon says.

“Then what?”

“Your cock, I want- Ian please fuck me?” Brendon’s looking up at him through his lashes, mouth hanging open, and fuck, he looks so good. Ian steps closer, enough that he can feed Brendon his cock, hand still tight in his hair. Brendon takes him in, all tight wet heat, Brendon’s throat working around the head of his cock. They’ve got a rest day, tomorrow, so if Brendon fucks up his voice, he’s got some time to recover.

Brendon’s good, swallowing around him to get Ian deeper, and fuck, Ian’s not going to last if they continue like this. “Stop, stop, Bren” he pants, pushing at Brendon’s shoulder to get him off. Brendon pulls off with an obscene wet noise, and Ian groans. “On the bed.”

Brendon climbs up onto the mattress, knees spread wide and planting his hands under him. Brendon looks back at Ian over his shoulder, and grins wickedly, pushing his ass out. If Ian were better at this, he’d having some scathing remark about putting Brendon in his place for his cheekiness, but all Ian gets out is a slightly embarrassing noise.

Ian climbs in behind him, admiring the way Brendon’s all spread out just for him. Brendon’s skin is pale and perfect, and Ian reaches out to touch, watching the way his muscles tense under his skin, anticipating.

“Relax, I’ve got you,” Ian says, petting over Brendon. “You only have to say so, and we’ll stop.”

Brendon nods, pushing back into Ian’s touch again. “Yeah, I know, come on.”

Ian sets his knees inside Brendon’s, and brings his hand back. “Uh, how do you-” He starts, unsure.

“Just hit me.” Brendon says. Ian brings his hand down then, right in the center of Brendon’s cheek. The smack isn’t as loud as he expected, but the flash of white that turns to pale pink in the wake of Ian’s palm is satisfying.

Brendon groans. “Harder,”

Ian sets up a rhythm, hitting Brendon as hard as he can. Brendon groans and pushes back against Ian with each strike. When he counts to twenty in his head, he pauses. Brendon’s skin is flushed, warm under his tingling hands. “Good?” He asks.

“Yeah, more, harder, Ian come on.” Brendon doesn’t even look phased.

“Jesus.” Ian pants, his shoulder already tired. “Alright, ten more and then I’m gonna fuck you.” Brendon nods, and Ian brings his hand across his ass, palm stinging and fingers numb. Ian’s really not cut out for this. Someone with more practice hitting things.

Sinking into Brendon after so much build up is bliss, however. Ian grunts and grips Brendon’s hips harder, stilling him. He wants to last, wants this to be good for Brendon, too.

“Ian,” Brendon whines and digs his heels into Ian’s back. He’ll probably have bruises from Ian’s fingers, which makes him grip harder at the thought. At least they won’t be visible under his clothes. If he doesn’t take his pants off again.

Ian sets a brutal pace, hard and fast snaps of his hips that have Brendon clutching at him. Ian holds out until Brendon comes, slicking their chests, before bucking into him one last time and staying.

“We need Spencer for this,” Ian says, still panting into Brendon’s neck. “He can hit hardest.”

“Oh my god, yes.”

The next morning, Spencer eyes the mark Brendon left on Ian’s neck, but doesn’t say anything.

+++

Brendon comes to him in the bus again, when everyone is sleeping. He kneels between Ian’s knees and ducks in for a kiss, which Ian is too surprised to deny.

“Everyone is asleep, please?” Brendon sneaks his hands under the hem of Ian’s shirt, because he is a cheating motherfucker. “Can we try again?”

“Okay, but you have to be super fucking quiet, for real.”

“I know”

“This isn’t like before, when we were just talking. If we wake anyone up, we’re screwed. Promise me you’ll be able to be quiet.”

“I promise,”

Ian gets up and shuts the lounge door. Brendon is naked when he turns back around. “Seriously?”

Brendon grins “You know you like it.”

Ian shakes his head, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Let me,” Brendon says, crossing to Ian and helping him out of his clothes.

“Is this a thing? With taking clothes off?”

“You noticed,” Brendon says, still grinning. It’s kind of annoying.

“That grin is starting to get annoying.”

“So make me stop” Brendon challenges. So Ian hauls him into a kiss, getting filthy with it, all sharp teeth and thrusting tongue. Brendon’s hard against his hip, and Ian grinds against him. Their movements are frantic, rough and demanding. Ian walks them back towards the couch, lets Brendon fold himself onto it. The carpet isn’t the most comfortable on his knees, but that’s secondary. What’s important is all of Brendon’s pale skin in front of him, all for him to kiss and touch and mark up.

Ian teases him with his mouth and fingertips until Brendon is writhing under him, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth to keep from making noise. When he’s properly worked up, Ian fingers him open, waiting until Brendon’s flushed and rocking down onto his fingers to take Brendon’s cock into his mouth.

“Jesusfuckingchrist,” Brendon grits out, biting down on his fist. Ian looks up at him, quirking an eyebrow as best he can to inquire “Good?”

“Yeah it’s good, more, more Ian come on,” Ian’s got four fingers in Brendon’s ass, and is sucking him like a fucking champ, what more does he want?

Ian digs the fingers of his free hand into Brendon’s thigh and leaves angry red marks, and he’s just about to ask again if it’s good when he hears the door to the back lounge slide open.

Spencer’s standing frozen in the doorway, his eyes glued to the marks all over Brendon’s thighs, and Brendon moans. Ian chooses then to remove his fingers, and Brendon clenches around air and comes, all over his stomach and Ian’s hand. Well, that’s interesting. Spencer makes a broken sound, and Ian brushes his fingers over Brendon’s cock, gathering the come there and enjoying the way Brendon twitches, and walks over to Spencer.

He raises his fingers to Spencer’s face, just hovering over Spencer’s open mouth, eyebrow raised in question, and Spencer ducks his head and sucks Ian’s fingers into his mouth. He looks over at Brendon, and Brendon whimpers.

“So this is what you’ve been getting up to without me?” He says, wrapping his fingers around Ian’s wrist and bringing his palm to his mouth.

“Spencer,” he says, brokenly. Spencer lets go of Ian’s hand when it’s clean and crosses to Brendon, bending down and kissing him filthily, letting Brendon taste himself on Spencer’s tongue.

“Spence, fuck me, please, I want.”

“And what about Ian, hmm?” Spencer says, reaching up with one hand and taking a handful of Brendon’s hair. “You gonna leave him high and dry after all he did for you?”

“I- I’ll suck him, yeah. Can I suck his cock while you fuck me?” Brendon plays this part so well, Ian thinks.

“Jesus, Brendon.” Spencer says, tugging at his clothes. Brendon reaches for him, trying to help with clumsy fingers. They get as far as getting Spencer’s pants undone and his cock out.“You better have condoms in here, or I swear to God,”

“Here,” Brendon pulls one, seemingly from thin air. Well, thinks Ian, he’d also had lube on him, so he’s not that surprised. Spencer just snatches it from him and rolls it on. He flips Brendon onto his stomach, pushing into him in one long slide. Ian watches them move together, Spencer pulling Brendon back onto his cock, Brendon arching and moaning, before the throb between Ian’s legs pulls him back to himself.

“Next time,” Spencer’s saying. He’s tugging Brendon up, his back against Spencer’s chest, rocking into him while he wraps a hand around Brendon’s cock. “You’re going to hold off, not come until I tell you. Next time, you’re going to be so fucking strung out, so messed up by the time I’m done with you.”

“Ngh,” Brendon moans. He twists, looking for Ian, who they left at the door. “Ian,” he pants.

“Shit, yes. Come here,” Spencer says, hauling Brendon backwards on the couch to make room for Ian at the other end. Ian shucks his underwear and kneels on the couch in front of Brendon. Ian gets a hand around himself, watching the way Brendon strains against the arm around his chest, whining to get at Ian’s cock.

“Ask nicely, Bren,”

“Please, Ian, let me suck you,” Brendon sounds so fucking sincere, like he’d actually perish without Ian’s cock in his mouth. “Please, I need,”

“Alright, alright, shhh...” Ian takes a handful of Brendon’s hair and guides his cock past Brendon’s wet lips, and fuck it is good. Brendon moves between the two of them, rocking into Spencer’s thrusts and forward to Ian deeper. He looks so fucking good, plump lips flushed an obscene red where they’re stretched around Ian. Ian hazards looking away, following the line of Brendon’s back, down to where Spencer’s hands are tight around his hips, and lower. From this angle, he can just see where Spencer’s cock is pushing into Brendon. Ian can imagine, he fucking knows, what it looks like on Spencer’s end, Brendon all stretched tight around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Spencer’s chanting. His hips stutter before bucking in and staying. Spencer comes silently, folding himself over Brendon’s back to bury his face in his neck. Brendon whines, body twisting back into Spencer.

Spencer nips at his ear. “Dallon’s not gonna stay asleep forever, Brendon, come on, suck him off,” Brendon moans around Ian’s cock and redoubles his efforts.

“Shit, fuck you, Spence.” Ian pants out.

Spencer grins up at him wickedly. “You’re the one who made him promise to be ‘super fucking quiet, for real’” he mocks.

Ian flushes. “asshole” Brendon chooses then to press forward, his nose pushing into Ian’s curls as his throat works around Ian’s cock. “both of you, jesus.”

Brendon pulls back to press his tongue under the head of Ian’s cock, the perfect amount of pressure, and Spencer reaches around to fit his hand around Ian as well. They work in tandem, Spencer’s fingers meeting Brendon’s lips, just the right amount of heat and pressure.

“Shit guys, oh fuck,” Ian tries to pull away, a warning or something, but Spencer just grips him, stroking as he pulses down Brendon’s throat.

“Jesus christ,” Ian collapses back onto the couch, and the bus is silent for the sound of their harsh breaths.

“I knew it was a good idea to include Spencer” Brendon says, his face smushed into the cushion. Ian laughs, and nods. They really couldn’t take full advantage, but like Spencer said, Dallon’s not going to stay asleep forever. Oh well, next time, Ian hopes.


End file.
